Mind Over Matter
by Angel1876
Summary: Something was pulling at him, pleading. It wasn't just the voice itself, it was something else. It wasn't like his body was moving of it's own accord, but more like something was in his head, forcing him to move.
1. Blood

**AN: A slightly different type of centipede fanfic than what I've been doing. This is a bit of an experiment, so please, let me know what you think. ^^ Oh, and remember that it's in the supernatural category for a reason, so no telling me I'm crazy for the supernatural themes, unless it's constructive criticism, 'kay? ;)**

Heiter awoke in the middle of the night, a sensation of fear piercing his heart, causing it to beat painfully hard in his chest. He bolted up, his eyes scanning the dark room. Something felt odd, out of place. But what? His mind, though slightly foggy from sleep, ran through the possibilities. Someone else was in the room, watching him. He stood and flicked on the light, barely wincing at the brightness, and no. No one was there. Someone was somewhere in the house?

He put on his coat and calmly went down the stares, pulling his gun as he went. Was it another officer? He'd taken great care to burry each victim in the forest in hard to find places. He'd sworn up and down that no one had come to his house after the two left to get the warrants to search him. Thus far, there was no evidence to arrest him, though they'd come close several times. Having six people disappear near his house, two of which actively investigating him, wasn't exactly reason for others to think him innocent. The only thing that saved him was the recent increase in animal attacks in the surrounding forest, which kept him out of jail only for the moment.

He slowly went through every room, finding his house completely empty. He was alone, his three-hund gone, his centipede likewise. A frown twisted his face, not at the lack of company, but at the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

Finally he stilled, listening intently to the silence around him, trying to hear anything. A creaky board, an exhale of breath. Nothing. It seemed he was alone, but...

He froze, hearing a whispered voice behind him, so quiet he couldn't tell what it said. He whorled around, gaze landing on an empty space. "Wo bist du?" he hissed, becoming frustrated, "Ich wei , dass du hier bist. Zeig dich."

_So sorry._

Again, it came from behind him, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there. It had spoken in English... "Come out, now!" he called again, wanting to threaten whomever it was, but unable to risk it in case it was a officer. He'd gone too far to get arrested. Besides, he wanted to make a new pet, something he couldn't do if he were in a cold, damp cell.

_I'm sorry..._

"Come out now, or I will call the police." he threatened, heading for the phone in the kitchen just to prove his point. Though, he wouldn't really, because he had enough suspicion on himself already. He picked up the receiver and put it to his ear, "Calling them now. Hallo, gibt es ein Eindringling in meinem Haus."

_I'm like this_.

"Ja, kommen sie zu verhaften, bitte."

_Don't leave...please._

He became quiet, his eyes narrowing as he lowered the phone a little. Was whomever it was deliberately ignoring him?

_It hurts...help me. I'm sorry. I'm scared. Please._

Suddenly pain flashed through his head, as if someone drove a knife through his skull. It was enough to make him drop the phone and double over in pain. Trees were everywhere. It was dark and cold and hard and where was she-where-did-he-go-what-what-happed-is-he-there?

Heiter gasped, finding himself on the floor, the ceiling hovering over him, much closer than it should have been. Shakily, he stood, the room twisting around him. His vision was distorted, things much bigger or much smaller that they actually were. Did he hit his head when he fell?

The doctor sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall as he waited for the dizziness to fade.

_Where are you?_

He reached up and touched a dampness he felt running down his face, pulling his fingers away to find they where coated in crimson. He growled, his frustration turning into anger. Did he have a tumor or something? Did something in his brain burst? What was going on?

_Help..._

He growled again, and stalked outside, looking around at the surrounding forest. Something was pulling at him, pleading. It wasn't just the voice itself, it was something else.

He walked through the dark trees, quick and sure of himself, though each step he wondered why he was doing this. Logically, he should get to the hospital. He was hearing things, he was bleeding from his eyes, he knew this wasn't a good thing. But he couldn't. He couldn't make himself stop. It wasn't like his body was moving of it's own accord, but more like something was in his head, forcing him to move.

"If I must." he snapped, letting himself go deeper into the forest. The minutes passed quickly, and suddenly the pull vanished. When it did, he stopped in his tracks.

_Richard...? You're not..._

That voice again, stronger now. And what was more, it was distinctly female. Curious, confused, he began walking in the same direction as before, and found himself just outside the forest. The road was right there, empty of course. There were no cars this time of night, and only a single streetlight kept the lonely area company.

In front of him, laying still on the grass, was a body. There was blood everywhere, staining the lush green underneath. He drew closer, pointing the gun at it's, her, head. He noticed the bleeding was coming from an open ground in the back of her skull, the skin torn away to reveal cracked bone. He cautiously circled to her front, and found her icy eyes were open, glazed over and unfocused. She was clearly dead, but, she was breathing?

The cold orbs turned in their sockets, locking on him. He made to pull the trigger, but the same thing that brought him there stilled his finger. A piercing sensation ripped through his chest, but he couldn't move.

_If I die, you die._

The voice had gone from soft and pleading to darkly threatening. It shouldn't be possible, but for whatever reason he had no doubt what he heard was the truth. The throbbing pain of his heart seemed proof enough., at least

He felt control over his body slip back to him, and he put the gun away. With a sense of urgency, he picked up the unmoving woman and set off toward the house as quickly as he could.


	2. Loss of Control

Heiter lay her on the bed and cut away the torn skin clinging to her by a few bloody strands of flesh. There was no sewing it back on, therefore no reason to try and save it.

He'd seen no sign of life from her since she'd gazed coldly at him, but there was still that threatening pang in his chest. It was as if a hand was wrapped around his heart, squeezing it in an unforgiving grip. The words went through his head again, 'If I die, you die.' As if to remind him that, though impossible, it was real, his chest tightened further.

Trying to ignore it and focus on the task at hand, he began to carefully pull the shattered fragments of skull from the wound. Something had hit her, hard. There was no other explanation for this. As he pulled a particularly sharp piece away, a piece of brain matter fell from it onto the bed, and he wondered how she could possibly be alive.

Once every part of the bone had been extracted, he got a good look at the damage. The doctor in him shuttered at the sight, and again he wondered how she could have lived through it. The exposed part of her brain had been torn apart, and it was bleeding quite severely. After a moment of considering his options, he began to scrape away the ruined tissue. Careful not to cause anymore damage, he made sure only to take away what couldn't be salvaged.

Her breathing pattern was becoming erratic, her body starting to shake a little. Could she feel this? Was she conscious? He hadn't time to administer sedatives. But the voice had stopped prodding at him after that threat, so he really wasn't sure.

When he'd done all he could do, he bandaged her head. Of course, they'd have to be changed regularly, until she was strong enough for bone graphs. Did he have to take care of her for that long? He supposed he could simply send her off to one of the nearby hospitals. He-

The pain in his chest vanished, so suddenly that it was as if it had never been there. Instinctively, his hand moved to cover his heart, beating normally. He felt a sense of relief, that the danger, perhaps, was over. He still didn't know why her life meant his own, but he didn't have to understand it to want it gone. He'd contact another doctor, let them know of her condition, have them come pick her- no, that was rather risky. He'd take her there himself, he decided, and started for the door.

_You aren't going to just abandon me now, are you, Heiter?_

He stopped in his tracks and turned, finding the woman sitting there with her arms wrapped around her stomach. Her frosty blue gaze locked on his, and he found himself unable to look away. Though they looked cold, he could see something bubbling underneath.

"You...you are in need of proper care that I can not provide you. I was merely-"

_Bullshit! You just want to not have me around. You only helped because I made you._

The change in her expression was breath taking, going from frustration hidden under a calm mask to full on rage in less then a second. He also noticed, without surprise, that she spoke without moving her lips. That explained how she could have contacted him before. Her voice, once soft and pleading, burned his mind like acid.

_Or maybe, you just don't want any witnesses to your sick little game, eh? Why not make me a part of it? Am I not good enough for you?_

"I don't know what you mean." he stated evenly, his tone controlled. How could she-?

_How could I possibly know that you like to sew people together? That you make them eat shit because you find it thrilling? Monster._

She stood, her body teetering and bringing her unceremoniously back to the bed. Obviously, movement would be restricted until she began to recover. That is, barring any complications such as infection or the like. He pulled his gun and pointed it at her. He couldn't let her leave now, now that she knew. He fired, but it missed, putting a hole in the wall. But he'd been aiming right for her, how could he miss?

_Put that thing away and get me something to drink will you?_

She whined softly as she pulled herself back into a sitting position, proving that she could, in fact, make noise. She reached her hand back and cautiously touched the bandages, the only thing separation her brain from the potentially deadly world. She gasped and pulled away, fear and uncertainty replacing the previous emotion.

_So if I bump my head or fall, I'll die? That's not...fix me. Fix me now._

He ignored the command, and fired, missing once again. A snarl ripped her throat as her attention snapped from her wound back to him.

_I said drop it! Unless you want to it in your own head, asshole?_

Before he could make sense of what she'd said, he lifted the weapon and pressed it to his temple. His eyes widened and he tried to lower it, but he couldn't. His finger squeezed the trigger dangerously tightly, with only a feather's worth of force needed to end his life.

_Now, be a good sicko, and get me something to drink, will you? And don't put any of your date rape crap in there, or I'll make you drink it myself._

Control shifted back to him, and instantly, Heiter dropped the gun. It hit the ground, bouncing off of it with a hollow thunk. He was out of the room before it stopped moving. He leaned against the closed door, his breath coming noticeably faster now.

_Oh, and don't try to leave. I'll just walk you back here._

"So my choices are to do as you say or die by my own hand?"

_Bingo! You win a prize! You now have a time limit. You have two minutes to get me that drink, or else. _

Heiter, frustrated but with no other choice, started for the kitchen.


	3. Carrie

Heiter returned to the room to find the woman standing uneasily on her feet. Her entire body trembled, to the point where he was sure she'd be on the floor if not for the hand pressed hard against the wall beside her. After a moment, she sat back down, her breath quick as if she'd just ran a mile. She looked up at him, a dark smile flashing across her face despite obvious exhaustion.

_So, you brought the water? Good boy. Now get your ass over here and help me drink it._

A twinge of pain flared in his chest in an unspoken threat. Seeing no other option available, he approached her as she shifted her position so her back was pressed to the wall. She was a stubborn one, forcing herself to remain upright even after loosing part of her brain. He put the glass up to her mouth and tipped it lightly, the water easing to her lips. He thought perhaps he could slip his hand between the back of her head and the wall, gain access to the wound ag-

The pain increased, bringing a gasp from the man, making him drop the glass to the floor.

_Do so and suffer more than you ever thought possible. _the words hissed darkly,_ Look, you made me wet. Bad. Ah well, thanks for the water. I feel better now._

The stabbing sensation eased, and he looked up to see her smiling at him. He scowled at her, the light expression she gave him irritating him further than he already was.

_Aww, don't get upset. It was a compliment, I think. See, I feel better, thus you are a good doctor._ she paused, and tilted her head to one side,_ Then again, you don't want to be a good doctor anymore, do you? You want to be a mad scientist that stitches people together. You're disgusting._

Still grinning, she struggled back to the bed, nearly falling onto it. He heard frustrated exhale of breath, as the woman crawled around, before finally laying on her side, facing him. She wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, a thoughtful gaze rested upon him. He folded his arms and met her eyes emotionlessly, trying to show that he wasn't intimidated by her.

_You remind me of my dad. He didn't care for me much either. You're not going to at least give me a chance?_

"No." he said sharply, though by then he guessed it didn't matter if he answered her verbally. She seemed to be able to know his thoughts. He didn't like this, someone knowing everything he knew. She was dangerous to his position, having the power to go to the police and report everything he'd done. He'd have to dispose of her somehow, when she wasn't looking. Maybe when she slept...

_That's not much motivation for me to sleep now, is it? Not that I can, so that little plan won't work. Hehe. Actually, you should get some sleep yourself._

"I'm not tired." he growled, though it was a lie. He'd been woken after a few hours of sleep to work on her brain. It wasn't exactly a restful experience.

_You sound all kinds of mature right now don't ya?_

A strangled sound came from her throat at that. He could have sworn it was a laugh, but it sounded wrong. Like her voice box was underdeveloped, or scarred. Suddenly the noise stopped, and she looked at him blankly.

_Say, have you seen a man around here? Tall, red hair? Eyes like mine? No, no of course you haven't. Whatever. Go to sleep. I'm tired of your company._

With that she rolled over, taking obvious care to keep from bumping the injury. With her back to him, he though he could finally leave the room. But he couldn't move. Heiter was frozen to the spot. Darkness crept in around his vision, and with no small amount of panic he realized he was going to black out.

_Oh, before you go, I suppose you should have something to call me. You don't deserve my real name right now, but it's better than 'hey you', yes? How about...Carrie? Carrie White?_

Again that laugh, but it was louder, as if she'd just told the world's funniest joke. The room spun, and he found himself on the floor with no memory of falling. The shadows seemed to dance, and he could feel his heart hammer in his chest as his conciseness faded away.


	4. Say It

**AN: As I should have said in the last chapter: To make things perfectly clear, her name isn't really Carrie White. She said it was because she found it amusing, particularly because Heiter has no idea who the character is. So no, this isn't a crossover. It's just 'Carrie' messing with him.**

**Anyway, thank you everyone for reading(and reviewing) this story. Hope you enjoy this chapter. ^^**

Heiter awoke with a violent jerk, his body scrambling into an upright position before his mind could catch up with it. The result was that he fell onto his knees, numbly registering the pain the impact caused as he struggled to stop the room from spinning. His head throbbed horribly, and even the sound of his own breath, or the soft light from the ceiling , caused the agony to intensify. He lost track of how long he remained in that position, waiting for reality to come back to him. His stomach twisted as a wave of nausea flooded through him, and before he knew it he was dry heaving. Distantly it occurred to him that he must have been out for quite a while for all the food to have passed through to his intestines.

Finally, the violent contractions stopped, though by this time his abdominal muscles screamed out from the forced strain.

_Not feeling well, doctor?_

A shiver went down his spine at the sickly sweet sound of her voice, like poison mixed with sugar. He looked up to find the bed empty, but a light pressure of her hand on his shoulder told him she'd been standing behind him. "Don't touch me." he barked at her, wincing at the stabbing flair that went through his head. She stepped around him and kneeled in front of him, her hand shifting from his shoulder to his face. Her hand felt like ice against his feverish skin, her thumb caressing his cheek, only to be pulled away for her inspection.

_Eww, you've been sweating. Did you fall that hard when I knocked you out? I'm sorry._

She frowned at him, her head tilted in mournful thought. He growled at her, and tried to get up, to get away from her. But his body wouldn't comply. A dark smile spread her lips, and he shivered again, knowing that what she was thinking couldn't be good.

_You don't trust me? I'm offended, doctor. Isn't trust a big thing with you guys? I was going to help you, you know._

"I don't need your help."

_Don't you? You don't look too good right now. You look like your head is going to explode. Speaking of, I changed my bandages. You don't have too._

"I wasn't planning on changing them. I want you to- ah!" the pressure increased, making him double over and causing another fit of dry heaving when his stomach couldn't take the strain anymore.

_You want me to leave? No, I think not. I like it here. Now, as I was saying, doctor._

She put her hand under his chin and forced his head up, the room twisting around his so badly he was surprised her face wasn't morphing as well. Again, he tried to pull away, to close his eyes, to look at anything other than those cold orbs of hers. But he couldn't, and she seemed to delight in his loss of control.

_Your head is bothering you. And I can make it go away. I can make you feel good as new. But I want something from you, too, you know. So, how 'bout it?_

"No." he hissed through the pain, giving her the best glare he could manage under the circumstances.

_Say you love me and I'll make it stop._

What? "I re-refuse- to say-such...non-" he was cut off, the throbbing escalating to an unbearable level, to the point that all thought was stopped in it's tracks. When it eased enough that he was aware again, he found himself on his back. She was above him, her icy gaze sparkling in a way that told him that she was the one causing his suffering.

_Three little words. 'I love you.' Of course, 'I love you, Carrie.' would be much better, but it's not necessary for the moment. Say you love me, doctor._

What was wrong with this girl? "I. Said...No." he forced out shakily, his heart skipping a beat when her expression hardened into anger. And again, his head seared, everything, even the rest of his body fading, overshadowed by the piercing agony. When it ended, he found himself gasping for air, dizzier than before. He'd never thought such an intense feeling could even exist...

_You don't have to mean it. Just say it._

"No." he replied again, swallowing thickly at the though of enduring that again.

_You're afraid. Just say it, and I'll make you feel better. Say it._

He didn't reply. He refused to give her the satisfaction of winning this argument.

_Stubborn, aren't you?_

And it happened again, the pain rolling through him to the point he lost himself. But it was worse than before, and he could have sworn it lasted longer. He screamed, the pressure building until it felt his entire being was aflame. And all that he knew was that everything hurt, it had always hurt, and the pain would never end.

And then it did.

Every muscle in Heiter's body ached horribly, and he couldn't get enough air. He assumed he hadn't taken a breath in at least a full minute. Her eyes were inched from his, and they fixed him with a very serious stair.

"Say it." she said outloud, and the sound brought a shudder from him, like nails on a chalkboard. Her voice truly was broken, either from misuse or injury, because it was raspy and ragged, like moldy, torn cloth.

He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to give in. But he couldn't take another punishment like that again. "I...love...you." he said slowly, in between breaths. Instantly, the pain vanished, melting into cold numbness.

_Good boy. I love you too, Heiter._

Her cool lips pressed to his for a brief moment, and then she stood. She no longer swayed or stumbled, as if she hadn't recently suffered massive brain trauma. She started for the stares, pausing for a moment to look back at him.

_I bet you're hungry after all that. I'll make us something good. Stay here. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, would we?_

With that she ascended the stare case, leaving the man alone on the floor.


End file.
